


Recovery

by MapleMooseMuffin



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 1: Yes Sir, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season 2, SheithMonth2k17, Shieth Month, Space Flu, but not the way you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMooseMuffin/pseuds/MapleMooseMuffin
Summary: Shiro recovers from the Space Flu™. Keith worries too much.





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> It's Sheith Month! Not sure if I'll do all of the days or just some, but this is for Day 1. The prompt was "Yes, Sir."  
> Originally this was going to be about the fact that Shiro does NOT abuse his power as leader when if comes to interpersonal relationships, because I was salty, but then that fell through and now it's just a cute sick fic?  
> Beta'd by the lovely [nonamemanga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonamemanga).  
> Enjoy.

            By the time the Castle’s atmospheric lights shifted into the day cycle, Shiro’s temperature was back to normal. The same couldn’t be said for his sinus congestion, unfortunately, but at the very least the worst of the mystery illness was over. Shiro blinked his bleary eyes and shifted in the bed, pulling the blankets a little higher now that the space flu, as Lance and Hunk had named it, had eased off enough that the added warmth wasn’t a bother. Behind him, the bathroom door opened with a soft rush of air.

            Keith was at his bedside in a moment. Shiro smiled up at him, and Keith frowned.

            “Did I wake you?”

            “No. It’s morning, right?” Looking directly at the lights made his weary eyes ache too much, but Shiro guessed from the general brightness of the room that it was at least breakfast time. Certainly later than when he normally got up for his morning workout.

            “Sort of,” Keith said with a shrug.

            “Then I should be getting up anyway. I’d be setting a bad example as leader if I slept in until lunch.” He shifted slowly out from under the blanket and moved up to sit resting against the wall at the head of the bed. Unlike yesterday, the simple motion didn’t leave him out of breath. It was a relief. Seeing the glass of water in Keith’s hand, Shiro nodded to it and asked “Is that for me?”

            Keith stared at him for half a beat before catching his meaning, and glancing down and then back up with a quick nod. He held the glass out to Shiro.

            “Yeah. I was going to leave it here, for when you woke up. You should stay hydrated.”

            “I’m feeling better already,” he said as he accepted the glass, and he meant it. Whatever germs or virus had gotten inside of him did a lot of damage, but it apparently didn’t last very long against the human immune system, either, if he was feeling this well after just a long night’s rest. Keith shifted his weight and stared at the glass of water, so Shiro took the hint and raised it to his lips for a tentative sip. The cold was a little jarring, and his throat still stung when he swallowed. So then, he wasn’t _completely_ healed.

            “You still need rest,” Keith said, voice quiet but firm, like his frown. 

            “Honestly, at this point I think it’s just lingering side effects.” Shiro took another sip to calm the pointed look Keith was giving him – a look he’d probably picked up from Shiro himself, when he caught Keith overexerting himself on the training deck. He hid his wince, knowing Keith would force him into another day of bedrest if he thought Shiro was the slightest bit unwell. “Really, I’m fine. I feel like I just came out of a healing pod.”

            “Healing pods heal ‘grave wounds, not illnesses’,” Keith quoted Allura, crossing his arms as he spoke. Shiro smiled.

            “Well, then it must be you.”

            Keith managed to take the compliment with an affronted expression on top of the blush blooming across his face, and Shiro had enough mercy to hide his smug grin behind his glass. He took a long drink, watching Keith with fond eyes. 

            “You must still have a fever if you’re that delirious,” the other muttered. Shiro snorted.

            “Go ahead and test me yourself,” he offered, setting aside the glass before leaning back against the wall. Keith frowned but leaned in to bring his gloved hand to Shiro’s forehead.

            “You’re not going to be able to tell through the leather.”

            He’d expected Keith to take the glove off, then, and bring the hand back, where Shiro could snatch it and press a playful kiss into the back of his hand, but Keith didn’t. Instead, he lowered his hand to Shiro’s right shoulder and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s forehead.

            The kiss was soft, long, and filled Shiro with a pleasant warmth. His eyes slid closed as he smiled at the sensation, feeling the urge to pull Keith into a hug rising quickly. But the other pulled away before he could go through with the plan.

            “I can’t tell,” Keith said after a beat. Shiro, drawn out of the sweet and sappy place the kiss had brought him, stared at him, and slowly raised an eyebrow.

            “You thought kissing me would tell you if I had a fever?”

            “Your lips are the most sensitive part of your body, right?” Keith shrugged and looked away. “I thought it would help.”

            “Are you sure,” Shiro said, catching the hand on his shoulder and pulling it into his lap, held sandwiched between his own two hands, “you didn’t just want to keep these on?” He tugged at the strap of the glove and grinned when Keith rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.

            “You’re just trying to hold my hand.”

            “That may be.”

            Shiro laced their fingers together with one hand, and reached for Keith’s free hand with the other, wiggling his fingers in an eager gesture when Keith kept it out of his grasp. Keith gave him a stern look, but it soon cracked around a smile as the other caved and let his hand be captured.

            “You should rest, Shiro,” he said.

            “I am resting,” Shiro said, lacing their other fingers together as well. He lightly swung their hands back and forth before raising Keith’s left to press a kiss into the knuckles.

            “You’ll give me your germs,” Keith warned. He didn’t pull away.

            Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Because I didn’t when you slept here last night?”

            Keith flushed again and frowned. “I didn’t want to leave you alone. What if you needed help?”

            There was something there, in his tone, that caught Shiro’s attention. Keith sounded concerned, but also vulnerable. _Afraid_ , almost. With a slow, even tug, Shiro pulled the younger closer, catching Keith’s gaze and holding it with a gentle expression of his own, until Keith was half leaning over the bed and close enough for their lips to press, if Shiro leaned forward. He stayed still.

            “Are you that worried about me?” He watched the hesitation filter through Keith’s stormy eyes in the few seconds of silence before Keith’s reply.

            “I’m always worried about you.”

            Shiro ran a gentle hand up Keith’s arm, eyebrows knitting together in sympathetic expression as he let out a soothing sound. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

            It may have been the wrong thing to say, because Shiro caught a distressed expression forming on Keith’s face a moment before the other shut his eyes and tapped their foreheads together. The unexpected movement distracted Shiro long enough for the look to disappear and leave him with the slight doubt that it had ever been there to begin with. Keith released a sighing breath and leaned into the metal hand on his arm.

            “I don’t want anything to happen to you. We just got you back.”

            Taking care to be slow and gentle, Shiro wrapped his other arm up and around Keith, until he could pull the other into a half hug. In truth it had been probably a couple months since Shiro’s return to the castle, but Keith… hadn’t taken his absence well, and was still recovering.

            “I promise you I’m all right,” Shiro said. “My throat is a little sore, but beyond that, I’m feeling better.” Keith gave him a stiff nod.

            “Good. Hurry up and finish getting better, then.”

            Shiro smiled, leaned up, and pressed a light kiss to the other’s cheek. He felt more than saw Keith’s responding blush as the heat came off of him in waves, and Shiro couldn’t resist the grin that stretched across his lips.

            “Yes, sir,” he joked. Keith wound an arm around him and returned the awkward hug.

            When he pulled back, he shifted to press their foreheads together again, and frowned.

            “I’m not sure about the fever. I’m going to ask Coran for a thermometer.”

            Shiro made a face at that. “I don’t need Coran to come shoving weird instruments in my ears again, Keith. I’m fine, I _promise_.”

            “Don’t be a baby,” Keith scoffed and pulled away fully. Shiro crossed his arms and pouted at the other. It didn’t work.

            “I’m not a baby,” Shiro started.

            “Good. Then you won’t complain when I send Hunk in here with that Altean home remedy Allura taught him.”

            “Aw, come on, Keith!” Keith crossed the room and opened the bedroom door, ignoring Shiro’s distress. “That soup tastes like a gym locker and a dumpster had a kid in a swamp!”

            “It’s _good for you_ ,” Keith called from the hall, turning back long enough to give Shiro another stolen stern look. “That swamp kid is probably the real reason you’re feeling better.”

            Shiro supposed he couldn’t argue with that logic, but it didn’t stop him from screwing up his face in disgust as his bedroom door slid shut.


End file.
